Read our current issue, below. Read Light‘s poems of the week
by James Hamby
“A Pennsylvania school district is arming its teachers with 600 miniature baseball bats”—cnn.com
Bats and stones
May break your bones
But guns will fucking kill you.
by Brendan Beary
“Argentinian officers fired after claiming mice ate half a ton of missing marijuana”— The Guardian
Wee sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
Have yoursel’ a reefer feastie!
Man’s a brute, but aye, at least he
Provides ye food;
And what a food—sae crisp an’ tasty,
An’ you’re like, “Duuuuuude!”
Fra Ayrshire down to Buenos Aires,
Who but mice—ye furry faeries—
Make for better emissaries
(Tho’ true, now some constabulary’s
In quite a spot!)
So put some trippy tunes on then,
An’ party on—for who knows when
A buzz like this should come again?
Live in the now;
The best-laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Are like, “Oh, wow!”
by Dan Campion
In Reversal, Boehner Joins Cannabis Corporation Board
—New York Times
We find the rule couldn’t be plainer
In the cannabis case of John Boehner:
The Speaker evolved
When smoke rings resolved
A vision of corporate retainer.
by Orel Protopopescu
Before he ran the EPA,
Scott Pruitt liked to sue it.
A regulation reared its head?
Scott Pruitt had to screw it.
So now he heads the EPA.
(He isn’t there to woo it.)
He wants to change its challenge coin:
Less EPA. More Pruitt.
A soundproof phone booth, fancy desks?
Nothing’s too good for Pruitt.
A first-class trip to Italy?
(He wasn’t eating suet.)
Cheap rental from a lobbyist
who now has come to rue it?
Three million on security?
(Too many folks hate Pruitt.)
Accomplice on his greedy sprees?
Perrotta helped him do it.
Now secret emails raise alarms…
It looks like Pruitt blew it.
by Edmund Conti
He does what Trump bids
And never once bristles.
He’ll return to his kids.
We’ll be spared his epistles.
by Julia Griffin
“Meghan Markle ‘Can Play Herself’ on The Crown, Says Producer”
Dear Meghan/Dear Ma’am,
As we start to review
The qualifications you bring to play you,
We’d like to define, before going to town,
Your duties in playing yourself on The Crown.
The rôle you request’s not immovable yet:
The senior parts are already quite set
(Diana’s the diva and Fergie’s the clown);
There’s slightly more scope playing you on The Crown:
However, our viewers (this has to be stressed)
Don’t like their Americans stiff or repressed.
The British need only their eyebrows to frown;
But you will be playing yourself on The Crown.
Your close-ups with Catherine (you’ll know her as “Kate”)
Will teasingly hint at Alliance-Plus-Hate;
And if there’s a scene where you wear the same gown,
Remember, you’re playing yourself on The Crown.
Last winter, your ratings were brought to low ebb
By choice of a hat which was mocked on the Web.
You’ll see in your contract: No wearing of brown
As long as you’re playing yourself on The Crown.
The playing of self, without let-up or flaw,
Is really real life for your Granny-In-Law:
But acting in private won’t bring the renown
On offer for playing yourself on The Crown.
We hope the above will have clarifed things;
And last, since our lawyers are cautious round kings,
We need to be sure, or the whole deal goes down:
You’ll play yourself playing yourself on The Crown.
by Chris O’Carroll
I’ll shove a poker up his ass.
They’re rabid. Shoot them dead on sight.
Some rape and murder talking points
From voices on the pro-gun right.
Then, when the advertisers bail,
A Foxy voice is heard to screech,
Our side is being victimized
By Stalinists who hate free speech.